Two Geeks Are Better Than One
by TurkFox
Summary: What if, instead of John Watson, Sherlock's new flatmate was one Mr Jim Moriarty?


**Title: **Two Geeks Are Better Than One

**Chapter:** 1/?

**Fandom: **BBC Sherlock

**Characters:** Sherlock, Jim-from-IT

**Rating:** PG (for a sexual reference)

**Summary:** What if, instead of John Watson, Sherlock's new flatmate was one Mr Jim Moriarty?

**Notes:** I left myself a note when I went to bed at 5am – apparently I wanted an AU with good!Jim in John's place. So, here's the first chapter.

**Disclaimer:** None of the characters are mine and I'm not making any money from this.

"Oh, er, I'm not sure..." is Stamford's first response when Sherlock informs him he's looking for a flatmate. Sherlock can drive a person mad within the first thirty seconds, so finding someone who could stand to be around him long enough to live with him seems like an impossible task. He's about to say he'll need time to think about it when the door opens. Sherlock doesn't look up from the microscope, but Molly rushes along behind him to direct the young man to a computer. "

"You don't know of anyone who's looking for a place to live, do you?" Stamford asks them both.

Jim, a slight man whose awkward movements and mismatched clothing wouldn't look out of place on a teenager, turns to answer Mike and stopped stock still when he catches sight of Sherlock. "Uh, yeah actually, I'm looking for somewhere at the moment."

Sherlock lifts his head, following the sound of a voice which appears to be coming partially through the owner's nose until he spots Jim, who is currently staring at him, eyes wide and mouth slightly open. Sherlock can't help the smirk as he begins to speak.

"Clothing and face suggest mid-twenties but the lines around the eyes and the hairline say early thirties. You're an IT consultant so you would have studied mathematics or a science and your watch is an analogue star map, so physics with a specialism in astronomy. The accent is false, a couple of vowels slipped through which point towards a southern Irish accent, probably Dublin. Your pale skin and bad posture suggest a lot of time spent indoors at a desk and the computer game characters on the waistband of your underwear confirm that."

Jim is practically gawking at him by this point. "That's amazing!" he answers, though what he really wants to say is, _Oh, you're so beautiful and funny and sexy and clever - I've written my number on my inner thigh, please read it with your tongue._

Sherlock raises an eyebrow, stands and crosses to the door. "7pm, 221B Baker Street. Now if you'll excuse me, I've left my riding crop in the morgue."

Jim stares after him, then looks to Mike and Molly. "What just happened?"

Mike laughs. "I think you may have just passed the test."

Five hours later, after a full briefing from Stamford and Molly, Jim turns onto Baker Street just as a taxi pulls up outside the building. Sherlock emerges, long coat catching in the wind, and waits for Jim before approaching the front door.

Mrs Hudson has it open before either of them can ring the bell, Sherlock in her arms in an instant. Jim fidgets with his sleeve as he follows them in and up the stairs, eyes widening in surprise again as he sees all the boxes in the living room.

"I took the liberty of moving in."

Jim moves to question him, but Sherlock holds a hand up. "You need more space, I need someone to split the rent with. Plus, Mike sent me this." He holds his phone out for Jim to read.

_MS: He's a genius, Sherlock. I think he might be almost as clever as you._

Slipping into his natural accent, Jim counters, "Oh, I wouldn't say genius-"

Sherlock stops him again and presses a key on his laptop bringing up Jim's CV. "phD in Astronomy and Astrophysics by the age of twenty-three."

Jim blushes slightly as Sherlock continues, bringing up another page – Jim's Facebook account – and reads from it. "They estimated my IQ as two hundred but I think they're being a bit silly."

"Well, really, you can't even test for an IQ that high. And if there was someone who could score that highly, I'm not sure it'd be me."

"Were. If there _were_ someone."

"Actually, 'were' isn't always right, there are conditions. And on that particular occasion, 'was' is equally as correct as 'were' would be and I'd rather you didn't correct me because I may be many things but one thing I am not is 'wrong'!" Jim blurts out, regretting it as soon as he's said it and breaking eye contact, taking great interest in the wood of the mantelpiece.

Sherlock says nothing, but approaches the fireplace with a smirk and gestures to the skull Jim has started to examine. "An old friend. Helps me think."

Jim starts to laugh until he realises Sherlock is serious. Again, his attempt at a response is interrupted, this time by Sherlock dashing off across the room to look out the window.

"Yes! Another one!"

D.I. Lestrade is in the living room before Jim has a chance to process the sudden change in Sherlock's demeanour, explaining that there's been another murder. He's gone again just as quickly with a promise from Sherlock to follow on behind.

"I have to go, you'll make yourself a home?" More of a statement than a question, but Jim nods anyway. He hears the footsteps barely make it to the stop of the stairs before Sherlock is back in the living room.

"Want to join me? Might make a change from a night in, masturbating furiously in front of your computer."

Jim flushes a shade of red something akin to a postbox, all across his neck and chest as well. "Wh-what?"

"Your left arm is bigger and more defined than your right. Also, I can smell it on you, it's been less than an hour. Now, are you coming?" he continues as he passes through the doorway into the hall, before pausing to lean back through and put an end to whatever thought had just crossed Jim's mind. "Don't."

**Next time:** Jim does a hell of a lot more than just _giggle_ at a crime scene, Sherlock has a run-in with a furry draught excluder and the boys discover an alternative use for a plastic bottle.


End file.
